


Skylight

by HolmesianDeduction



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Character Study, Gen, The Attic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-01
Updated: 2013-02-01
Packaged: 2017-11-27 18:48:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/665258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HolmesianDeduction/pseuds/HolmesianDeduction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was always one good thing about Martin's tiny attic flat, and it was his little secret.</p><p>A picture prompt fill inspired by <a href="http://sevenpercentsolutions.tumblr.com/post/41594634313/fluxinspiration-home-follow-flux-inspiration">this image</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skylight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AmatorAlatus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmatorAlatus/gifts).



             The skylight window was the only thing that he really, truly loved about the tiny attic room.  Stretching on his back, Martin Crieff pulled the pillow back to the other end of the bed and propped his head up as another jet flew overhead in the early morning sky on its way to the airfield.

_Boeing 747._

             He wasn’t lying about living in an attic, and there was indeed a horrible draft and barely room to do much of anything, but Martin, on good days, confessed to himself that it wasn’t as bad as if could be, and that sometimes it was even not bad at all.  His landlady wasn’t at all bad, and was oddly understanding when he fell behind on rent - as if she knew.  And he had developed, over the years, a sort of affection for the coming and going of the university students who lived in the lower rooms.

             Another plane passed overhead.

_737 that time._

             Then, of course, there was the window.  The attic had a single window - a large, square skylight that sat at an angle over where Martin had placed his bed.  While looking at the attic for the first time, he had made a face at the window - at least until a plane flew overhead en route to the airport and he had found himself captivated for a moment - long enough to cement the idea of spending time watching the planes in the mornings and even on late nights, identifying them by their light patterns and the dim shapes against the black sky.

             He had taken the flat in the attic on the spot, in spite of the warnings of a friend, and the fact that he had at least one other flat to look at.  When questioned, he kept his mouth firmly shut, almost as if unwilling to disclose his reasons, or else lied and said that it was only because the rooms were really the most he could afford.  Nothing else.


End file.
